


Hello, Governor!

by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons



Series: There Was A Farmer Who Had Some Goats And Patrick Was His Name-o [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, An AU within an AU, And also a raccoon, And has some goats, M/M, Missing Scene, Patrick Brewer is a Disney Princess, Patrick is a Farmer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27392356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons/pseuds/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons
Summary: It’sYou Don’t Have to be Lonely,but with a raccoon.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: There Was A Farmer Who Had Some Goats And Patrick Was His Name-o [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001085
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61





	Hello, Governor!

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter strikes again. I saw [this video](https://twitter.com/everythinggoats/status/1323297893336387584?s=21) and immediately thought, “what if Farmer Patrick had a raccoon instead of a dog?,” posed the question to Cali and then this happened. I just reworked and added a few scenes because the concept was hilarious to me. 
> 
> **This installment will not make sense outside the context of the original story in this series. Please read it first.**
> 
> Rated T for language.

This picks up in the middle of _You Don’t Have to be Lonely,_ so please read that first if you haven’t already!

* * *

David tossed for a few minutes, certain he would never get to sleep. It was too quiet without Alexis’s soft breathing and the sound of his mother’s white noise machine next door and the occasional slam of a door from another motel patron. But Patrick’s quilt- homemade, from the looks of it- was thick and warm, and the couch was somehow more comfortable than the bed at the motel, and soon David felt himself dragged under by sleep, dreaming of big brown eyes and calloused hands. 

His dreams were suddenly interrupted sometime later, however; he suddenly became aware of something  _ growling.  _ A small,roundish, growling _something_ was in the room with him, and he could just barely make out the shape of the shadowy figure as it stalked towards him on the couch. David sat up gasping, limbs flailing as he tried to get his bearings in the darkness and fumbled to turn on the lamp next to the couch. 

He switched it on, and shrieked when he spotted a raccoon scurrying away from the light under the coffee table. 

Footsteps thundered down the steps, and an overhead light clicked on as Patrick skidded into the living room. 

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” 

“I don’t- there’s a fucking rabid raccoon in here!” David yelled, squinting around blearily against the bright light, pointing an accusatory finger towards the coffee table. The offending creature was peeking out, it’s dark eyes glittering and nose sniffing the air. 

Patrick sighed, scrubbing a hand tiredly across his face. “How did he get down here?” he muttered, seemingly to himself. 

David gasped as Patrick bent down to pick up the animal. “Patrick,  _ don’t!  _ It probably has rabies!” 

“He doesn’t have rabies, David,” Patrick said calmly, cradling the raccoon like it was precious cargo instead of a wild animal. “He’s mine. He was orphaned, so I took him in.” 

David stared at him, 87% sure he was still dreaming or possibly hallucinating. Maybe Patrick had drugged the wine. But he watched as the critter climbed onto Patrick’s shoulder, making soft, creaky noises that were halfway between a purr and a chirp as it dug its disturbingly human-like hands into Patrick’s curly hair. Patrick smiled softly, reaching a hand up to scratch behind its ears. 

Now that his heart had stopped feeling like it was going to burst out of his chest, David was able to fully process the scene before him. 

Patrick was shirtless, a pair of blue plaid boxer shorts hanging loosely on his hips, hair mussed from sleep. His chest and arms were strong-looking, a light dusting of hair scattered across his pale skin. His forearms were tanned in comparison to the rest of him, and David’s gaze dropped to notice he was holding a baseball bat in one hand. David tried not to feel too endeared by the fact that Patrick had immediately ran to his defense against some unknown threat. 

Patrick turned his gaze to David, shaking his head, admonishing. “You really screamed because of a baby raccoon?” 

David scoffed defensively, throwing his hands up. “Who the fuck keeps a raccoon as a pet?! It  _ growled  _ at me, what did you expect me to do?” 

Patrick sighed, a look of annoyed disbelief still hanging on his features. “I’m going back to bed,” he said finally. 

David bit his lip, feeling only slightly ashamed as he watched Patrick meander back towards the stairs, yawning, raccoon still perched ridiculously on his shoulders. 

“Hey Patrick?” he called, just as Patrick hit the first step. Patrick paused, turning back to look at him. 

“Yes, David?” he responded patiently. 

“I really thought ‘farmers tan’ was just a phrase,” David tried to keep the laughter out of his voice as he waved a hand towards Patrick’s ridiculous tanlines. “Thank you SO much for proving me wrong.”

Patrick shook his head, his expression amused but exasperated as he started up the stairs. “Goodnight, David.” 

David settled back against the couch cushions, biting back a smile and drifting off to sleep again a short time later. 

* * *

_ This scene takes place after the mechanic arrives to repair Patrick’s truck.  _

* * *

Leaving the mechanic to repair the truck, Patrick somehow convinced David to accompany him while he did his chores around the small farm. 

They headed towards the field behind the barn, where a small herd of goats was grazing. The raccoon materialized from somewhere, scampering behind them as Patrick filled water buckets. 

David watched in disbelief as the raccoon confidently chased after the goats, chittering away. 

Patrick laughed, opening the gate to the barn as the goats were rounded up. “Go on, Governor. Bring them inside.”

David felt like he was having a fever dream. “I’m sorry, did you just call the raccoon _Governor_?” 

Patrick shrugged casually, seemingly nonplussed about David’s reaction. “That’s his name.” 

David gaped at him as Governor continued his herding, and slowly followed after the motley crew of goats, raccoon, and farmer into the barn, the soft sounds of bleating and chittering and hooves filling the air. 

He was surprised that the barn didn’t smell as bad as he’d imagined, the sweet smell of hay and feed almost enough to cover the smell of the animals and their...byproducts. 

David generally wasn’t a fan of animals but the goats were cute, in a way. They had long, floppy ears and soft, velvety noses. He leaned against the enclosure inside the barn and tentatively reached out to one of them, a sweet-faced, reddish-colored animal with a damaged ear. It was healed, clearly an old wound, but David’s heart hurt thinking about how painful it must have been at one point. David could feel Patrick watching him, the awareness pricking at the back of his neck. 

“Do they have names?” he asked, his voice hushed as the goat snuffled into his palm. 

“That’s Vincent Van Goat,” Patrick nodded towards the one David was petting, wrangling Governor as the raccoon climbed up his leg. “And that one over there,” he pointed towards a dopey-looking white-blond goat at the back of the barn, “is Sebastian Baaaach. We also have Captain Hoof and Bleater Pan.” 

David snorted. “You’re joking, right?” 

Patrick heaved a put-upon sigh, leaning over to pet Vincent’s head. “Unfortunately not. I adopted them from my vet, and it didn’t seem fair changing their names.” 

“How diplomatic.” 

“Well, you know. I’m a very generous person.” Patrick grinned at him, and David rolled his eyes, attempting to keep the smile off his face. He watched for a few moments while Patrick moved easily around the goats, checking their ears and feet and murmuring to them quietly as he ran his hands softly over their flanks. Governor clung to his shoulder, purring happily. David shook his head, grappling with the surreal scene in front of him. 

“What are you, some kind of Disney Princess?” 

Patrick looked up at him, an eyebrow cocked and his expression amused but wary. “What do you mean?” 

David gestured loosely, fighting back a laugh and waving a hand as if to encompass everything that Patrick was. “Your whole  _ thing.  _ The cartoonishly large eyes, pallid complexion, woodland creatures as companions. Do birds come help you make your clothes and tidy the house while you sing to them? Are there any dwarves or evil stepmothers I should know about?” 

Patrick threw his head back in laughter, running a hand through his hair, nearly dislodging a disgruntled Governor from his perch. 

David wanted to wrap himself inside that soft, wheezy laugh, he thought wildly. Live inside of it for a while. 

“If I’m a Disney Princess, does that make you Prince Charming?” 

David looked at him sharply, clocking the blush high on Patrick’s cheekbones, the way he was biting his lip and suddenly avoiding David’s gaze. 

David snorted, breaking the tension. “Charming. Right.” 

Patrick’s eyes snapped back up to meet David’s, his voice teasing but his gaze full of an unreadable intensity that made David’s stomach flip. “You are, David. You’re sharp and engaging and hell, you managed to convince me to let you- a complete stranger- stay in my house. So yeah. I think ‘charming’ is a fair assessment.” There was a note of finality and suredness in Patrick’s voice that sent a thrill down David’s spine. 

David could feel his face flush as he attempted to fight off the smile that was attempting to overtake it. “Okay,” he murmured, and Patrick gave him a soft, satisfied smile at his concession. 

He watched Patrick work for a while, and even grudgingly allowed Governor to perch on his shoulder while Patrick mucked the enclosure. “If you claw holes in my Givenchy, I’ll turn you into a hat,” he warned. The raccoon chattered at him, earning a laugh from Patrick, who had paused his work to watch the exchange. He leaned on his shovel, pulling his t-shirt up to wipe sweat off his brow and revealing a strip of flesh across his hips. 

David averted his gaze immediately, staring out the open barn door. 

“Do you ever get lonely out here?” He asked, waving a hand languidly, indicating the vast fields beyond Patrick’s property that seemed to stretch for miles. “With all this...space?” 

Patrick hummed, and David turned back to look at him. His expression was thoughtful, his lower lip jutted out adorably as he considered the question. “I don’t know,” he shrugged as pulled his shirt back down. “I’ve never really been alone before. I went from living with my parents to living with a roommate to living with my ex. It’s kind of a nice change of pace.” 

“That’s different,” David blurted before he could stop himself. Patrick looked at him, his pale eyebrows knitted together in confusion. David swallowed, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “Being  _ lonely  _ and being  _ alone _ . They’re not the same thing,” he said quietly, turning his gaze to his hands, spinning the ring on his thumb. 

“No?” Patrick asked after a moment of silence, his voice hushed and somewhat hoarse. David looked up to find Patrick standing much closer to him than he had been a moment before, leaning on the post of the goat enclosure that separated them. David shook his head, and for a moment he was certain Patrick’s gaze flickered to his lips. “I guess you’re right.” 

The air felt charged with something, and David would swear Patrick was leaning forward across the fence slightly, but they both jumped back suddenly when a sharp knock rang out from the doorway of the barn. Startled, Governor rasped unhappily, gripping David’s shoulder tightly. 

The mechanic was standing there, wiping his hands with a dirty rag. “Sorry to interrupt, boys, but you’re all set. Truck is good as new.” 

Patrick cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the other shoved deep into the front pocket of his jeans. “Thanks, Bob. Appreciate it.” 

“No problemo. Have a safe drive back to town.” Bob trotted off, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what this is, y’all. I really don’t. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
